


Buzzcut

by smokingwire



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M, the rituals and behaviours. they are as intricate as they are unhealthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25462906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokingwire/pseuds/smokingwire
Summary: Stuart, Murdoc, a razor... there’s only so many outcomes
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Buzzcut

The room is stale. Sickly aged yellow light comes from a lamp on the bedside table, making the brown of the motel carpet and linen and everything look somehow worse. The sour air that’s gathered fits right in; booze, ash, and sweat. Murdoc’s sat on the bed, legs outright and ankles crossed, while Stuart lies next to him, eyes shut but conscious. He watches as the others chest languidly rises and falls, before he switches his gaze to the smoke coming off his fag. It drifts up past his face into nothing. 

It’s a while before Stuart shifts upright and then over, slouching on the edge of the bed; his spine a great curve, the knobs and ridges making it seem gear-like. Murdoc can see him, from the corner of his eye, reaching down to pull out his pills from the clothes pile on the floor. Long knobby fingers wrap around the press and twist cap, coordinating clumsily before it pops open. He downs double his prescription. Stuart then rises, spine straightening from gear to more-or-less barbed wire, strung tail to head, and mechanically makes his way to the bathroom. Murdoc thinks nothing he hasn’t before and stays sitting, smoking. 

It’s not long before Murdoc hears a few aggravated words. He considers it, puts his cigarette out on the nightstand, and gets up to go check. 

Cracking the door open, he sees Stuart standing in front of the dingy sink and mirror. Murdoc thinks the lighting, harsh and white in here, does less for his pallor than the piss-yellow did, but then he takes note of the electric razor in his hands and he just has to ask “What are you doing?”

Stuart’s focus is all on the razor and it doesn’t waver in spite of his fumbling with it to switch it on. He mumbles something in response. 

Murdoc doesn’t have the foggiest. “What?” 

Stuart ignores him. It’s not until he’s bringing the now alive and buzzing razor up past his face and towards his head that Murdoc clues in. 

He leans against the doorway, feeling tension he didn’t know he had faintly creep away, and eyes him a bit uneasily. “Alright Sinéad, what’s this about?” 

A majority of Stu’s fringe falls to the floor. “I just- want it gone.” 

"Right.", and there goes the rest of it.

Unsure if he could or even should bother trying to stop him, Murdoc opts for watching. And he does. He watches as the hair on Stuarts head quickly and unevenly disappears. Stuart keeps his gaze on his reflection, intent on it remaining there until all he sees is scalp. He briefly wonders if he’ll look the same as he did when he was eleven, but he knows that he won’t. 

By the time he has nearly no hair left and more than a few nicks, Stuart’s hands are shaky, clammy and slipping. Murdoc can see the difficulty. He looks into Stuart’s eyes reflected in the mirror, can tell he’s looking back. Nothing is said and Stuart certainly is not pleading, doesn’t agree with his need of help, but Murdoc approaches him anyways and he doesn’t argue. He lets Murdoc take the razor out of his hands and several moments pass before the other starts on what’s left. Murdoc doesn’t do a much better job, unsurprisingly, but it’s finished shortly. Stuart brings a steadier hand up to his head and feels the rough of the stubble, the pads of his fingers running over the smooth of his scars. He’s not sure what he was expecting, and opts to sit on the edge of the tub behind himself, just breathing. 

Murdoc’s still stood in front of the mirror, still has the razor in his hands and hasn’t turned it off. He looks at himself, reluctantly as ever, and without much thought brings the razor to his own hair. He keeps his eyes on his hands, as they switch depending on the sides, following as they go front to back. Stuart is brought out of his thoughts when he notices the floor turn from blue to black. He can feel the others hair falling onto his own head as he stays leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. Murdoc, finished, sets the razor off and puts it on the sink counter. Stuart stands, intently rubbing his head to get rid of any remnants, and for a moment they’re side by side; only half of each of them fitting in the frame of the mirror. He takes what he hopes is a furtive glance at the two of them, at him, before he turns to leave. Murdoc catches his expression, and then he’s gone, and then he’s alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a year ago and had put it on tumblr, but thought I’d fix it up a bit and post it here. Hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to let me know your thoughts :)


End file.
